Diary Entry of a Summoner: Dinner with Katarina
by FreakinPrinnies
Summary: A summoner attends a Noxian dinner, and has a very spiritual conversation with Katarina. Katarina voices her distrust for the league, but the reason she still stands by it.


Diary Entry of a Summoner.

We summoners are a prideful lot. Ignorant. Sinful. Beligerant. Hate and Malice filled. We are, but of course, the humans like the souls we pilot around the fields of justice like some unholy plaything. In our conquest to stop the Rune wars, this "League of Legends" was created, pitting champions bodies against others in a test of mettle. I sometimes sit back and wonder what would pull summoners of all walks of life and creeds into the fray to the entertainment of both the archmages and the helpless alike.

It is my unfortunate duty as a Summoner to disclose where I live. I am a Noxian in Demacia- two equally perverted countries with two equally perverse goals and declarations of self righteousness. I shudder to think what would happen should the two ever decide to kiss and make up for all the years of torture and abuse they drive their denizens through. Follow or be killed. Great, two horrible choices. Some people work to see past this- They become summoners, people of largely unbiased opinion, who looks at a champion solely for a skillset of assets and potential liabilities, and attempts to create a team that can capitalize on the offense while covering each others lacking ability.

But it's not like the summoned have their will. It would seem that all they have left to stop the madness is their mind- and it's to that avail that the summoned are largely ignored. Every single one of them has known the countless torture of death's embrace. Some welcome it. Others tend to fall off and go slowly insane, revelling in their constant agression.

I once got to sit with the dynamically beautiful Katarina at a Noxian dinner. It was hard to see her dressed up. The acclaimed she-hellion looked much different in a dress- dare I say, distractingly so. Throughout the dinner (and my occasional glances), I had noticed that while she was largely to herself, I caught her staring off into space, at the time completely lost in her thoughts. Several questions crawled to my mind, and while I dwelled on these, I was quickly snapped out of my trance- by the General's daughter herself. She was staring at me- and not in the way where hearts begin to flutter. This was more of the "I'm going to start wounding you if you do not change where you are looking.

"Out with it." She breathed.

"Out with wh-" I stammered. I was briskly interrupted.

"You have something on your mind pertaining to me." She stated. "You can deny it all you want, but your body language gives you away."

I had been caught, by none other than Katarina Holmes. I swallowed, and took a breath while I calculated my words. I did not enjoy the fact there was a steak knife bridging the gap between myself and her. I stammered a second more. This woman would have gut me like a fish without so much as a second thought.

"Mistress Du Couteau, my apologies." I began. "I did not mean to draw your attention in any dishonorable way. I do have a question I wish to ask if you may permit it."

A cold stare. One so cold it was as if I was standing at the gates of Freljord. She didn't stop me.

"I am a summoner like many around you. At some point and time, you, the strongest of us all, permitted your body to be used by us to complete tasks in the Fields of Justice. Be it a victory or defeat, and blood shed- theirs or yours, you still sit with us. A woman with respectable efficiency, dynamic fighting talents, and a pinnacle of Noxian beauty chooses to sit with those who have exploited you. Why?"

She fell silent. She remained this way for nearly an hour. The malicious look she once gave me long faded, to the point where I thought the woman had simply ignored it. The dinner went on for a while, and I realized quite quickly afterwards my welcome was running out. Silently, I stood from my seat, and like many other summoners who were taking a similar queue, I pulled my midnite blue hood over my head, the drab robes dragging as I walked. Seamlessly, I melted into the flood of those leaving, and left the Noxian mansion with the same questions, if not more, that I had when I initially arrived.

Some time later, I lay back on my bed, pondering the events from earlier. My musings from the events earlier sat in a book still open on my desk, the quill still wet from usage. In this time, my eyes began to feel a little heavy.

I blinked once.

I blinked twice.

The third blink saw me a sight I thought would be my last. The third time I opened my eyes, there she stood. Katarina Du Couteau. As we had known her, she was back in her rogue regalia. troubling, quite, because she was very beautiful with a full dress. Should this have been my last night, I should have asked her for a dance earlier.

"Sit up." she ordered. A blade was drawn. Helpless like I once was, I gave in, and sat up. She backed off, and sheathed her blade.

"I am aware of the fact I'm being exploited." The long haired woman said, finally answering my question from nearly 4 hours prior. "For the longest time, I hated summoners who insisted on bending me to suit their will on the Fields of justice. I've been forced to witness the slaughtering of perfectly innocent people of whom I shared little beef with, butchered by my hand. I hated the fact that it wasn't just a Noxian who could summon me. With the right amount of influence, Any summoner could bend the League's mind and summon pretty well whoever they wanted that was permitted to enter the fields of battle."

She paused. She was reading my musings. I had been busted.

"But something always crawls to my mind, Summoner. I'm not the only person out there in those fields. Death's embrace hurts, but I'm not the only person who feels it. Every single person listed as a 'Champion' has to lead this torturous existance. Winning, Losing, Fighting. Yeah, being a doormat has its poor days at times. There is a side of it many a champion would probably agree on, though. They all choose to be there out of true fear where Runeterra would be without them. Summoners and the world over may respect us 'Champions' for being the pawns in an all out war- but I'm sure every last one of us who is summoned out into the field knows that their life from the moment they were first summoned..."

she paused.

"...From that first moment I was summoned, I knew that my life was no longer. I am dead, Summoner. As is Prince Jarvin, as is Jericho Swain, as is King Tryndamere, as is everyone else. The League promotes peace at all costs. I can't think of a better reason than to sit with you summoners, then. I want peace regardless of consequences. It's your duty to ensure that happens. With use of my body and whomever elses that is summoned."

It was then that I of all people was left speechless. I looked down, but only to feel a warm light from in front of me. I had looked up, but saw that familiar pull of light. She was being summoned. She stared down at me. Her last words were what really made me think, before the light consumed her and she vanished from in front of me.

"Peace at all costs."


End file.
